


The Mirror

by FloatingLeaf



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-04
Updated: 2014-05-04
Packaged: 2018-01-21 20:12:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1562537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FloatingLeaf/pseuds/FloatingLeaf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A peek into the royal bedchamber in Minas Tirith.:)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Mirror

**Author's Note:**

> It seems I can't write angst to save my life. I sort of tried here, but the muses said: "uh-uh... we don't like this", and came up with a little far-fetched scheme to turn it all around. So I gave in, and this is the result...

There is a large, ornate mirror in the royal bedchamber in Minas Tirith. During the day, it usually reflects the massive, empty four-poster royal bed. At night – if there is moonlight enough to allow images to show in the glassy surface – it reflects the sleeping form of the king. Sometimes there is another sleeping form next to him, easily spotted due to its bright, flowing tresses that capture the moonlight. Or candlelight – on the nights when the king and his closest companion choose to stay up longer and cherish their bond…

Right now, the mirror reflects said companion, gloriously naked, kneeling upon the bed and leaning back against the sturdy frame of the king behind him. The king’s large, tanned hands are roaming up and down the smooth, white chest, pausing occasionally to tweak the nipples. The lithe elven body arches gracefully into the touch, waves of golden hair shifting across creamy shoulders as the long neck bends backwards. 

“Just look at you”, the king whispers reverently, face buried in the shimmering tresses. “The most desirable creature in all of Middle Earth…”

The elf shakes his head slightly, as if disbelieving the statement – though he has heard it many times. “Clever human”, he chuckles, nuzzling his smooth cheek against his lover’s stubble. “He knows flattery will get him anywhere…”

“Indeed”, the king chuckles back, hands sliding ever downwards against elven skin. “Will it get me here?...”, he muses, cupping one shapely buttock and inching his fingers slowly into the crease. 

“It just might”, the elf responds with barely concealed amusement. Then he moans as the man’s fingers begin circling his entrance. The slender column of his arousal twitches against his stomach. 

The king’s passion-dark eyes stare avidly into the mirror. He loves watching his elven prince like this – and he knows the prince loves being watched. Their desires complement one another. He nibbles gently at one pointed ear, savoring the reaction. He teases sensitive spots with playful touches, grinning wolfishly as the prince writhes and shudders. He could never tire of this game. Patience is a virtue, and the rewards are sweet – every time. 

Moments pass in agonizingly slow preparation. At long last, the elven prince stills the king’s roaming hands with a frustrated sigh. “I am not made of glass, Aragorn”, he complains. “I am not going to break! For Valar’s sake, stop teasing and fuck me already!”

The king throws his head back with a throaty laugh. “By Elbereth, Legolas! It never ceases to amaze me when your perfect high-elven lips utter such crude language!” 

“I’ve been around crude humans for too long”, Legolas responds archly. “Now please rein in your amusement and get on with it before the night is over.”

“I love it when you get all haughty and demanding”, the king murmurs in a gravelly voice, pressing close and readying himself to enter his lover’s body.

“Don’t I know it”, the prince manages to say before he falls back against the king’s chest with a soft cry.

There is no more teasing now – only harsh panting and desperate moans as the two joined bodies move in tandem. The mirror reflects every flicker of candlelight on glistening skin, every possessive touch, every shudder, until the glorious crescendo of shared release. 

Overcome with sweet exhaustion, the lovers collapse upon the bed, still entangled. The king wraps his arms tightly around the prince’s lithe frame, nuzzling his neck.

“What a wondrous invention - a mirror”, he muses. “It allows me to see your face as you surrender to passion, even while I take you from behind…”

“That it does”, the prince confirms, chuckling slightly.

“It also allows me to watch your backside as you ride me”, the king continues in a husky voice, hands roaming all over again.

“You do seem exceedingly fond of my backside. Betimes I wonder if I should be jealous of it.”

“Only if you catch me fondling it without paying any attention to your other body parts first.” 

“Hah! Silly human”, the elf huffs affectionately, turning in the man’s embrace to face him. 

“There it is – my favorite sight”, the king proclaims, gazing over the prince’s shoulder into the mirror. The elf laughs softly and throws a leg over his lover’s hip. 

“It’s all yours, insatiable man. Feast your eyes on it while I take a nap.”

The king smiles knowingly, not fooled in the slightest. He is well aware that elves do not take naps. He can feel the prince’s quickened breathing as he lets his hand move down the slender back. 

“Oh yes, I am watching you”, he whispers. “I am watching my hand fondle your glorious behind…”

He squeezes one buttock tightly and savors the soft whimper escaping the prince’s throat. 

“You call me insatiable”, he continues. “And yet, you are the one who just got fucked and is already yearning for more…”

"Damn you, human”, the elf grits out under his breath, pressing closer and rolling his hips. “In all the centuries I’ve lived… mmm… no one has ever had such an effect upon me…”

“Then I know my true purpose on this Earth”, the man responds, feeling the elf’s reawakening arousal rub against his own. 

Mere heartbeats later, he is flipped roughly onto his back and kissed with abandon, while the elven prince straddles his hips. Fierce grinding ensues. Then the prince sits up, golden hair flying over his shoulders.

“Take me again”, he demands, and without waiting for an answer, guides the king’s rigid shaft into his body. Laughing and panting, the king lets his beloved elf take over. He merely pauses long enough to shove a pillow under his head, so as not to strain his neck while peeking around Legolas’ hip into the mirror. The elf shifts obligingly to allow him a better view. 

“You always move so gracefully… even now”, the man murmurs, caressing the long, sculpted thighs that pin him to the bed. “Before you were mine, I would watch you ride a horse and dream of being that horse…” 

“I know”, the elf laughs softly. “Your lustful glances were burning right through my clothes… it was extremely distracting.”

“I can only imagine… must be why you finally gave in.”

“Yes, that was the only reason. You simply wore me down.”

The elven prince’s face is quite serious as he says it – except for the tiny little smirk pulling at one corner of his mouth. 

“Damn elf!” The king slaps one moving buttock playfully, earning a startled moan. “Always so high and mighty… The proudest archer in Eryn Lasgalen… who would have thought to see you rolling in the hay with a mere human…”

“You may not be much of an archer, Aragorn”, the prince teases, earning himself a pinch, “but mere human you are not. And among the bedsheets, your aim is always true.” 

As if to prove his point, the king stills the moving hips atop him and thrusts powerfully into the clenching heat. 

“Yes!... That is exactly what I mean”, the prince rejoices, throwing his head back and closing his eyes. “Give me the full measure of your royal command…”

“Now, that is a very courtly way of saying you just want a solid pounding”, the king answers, a little breathlessly, before he plants his feet firmly against the mattress and applies himself to the task. The prince cries out in abandon, arching back against his lover’s thighs. Long fingers encircle his erect shaft, pulling in time with his lover’s thrusts. He is utterly lost in passion, blinded by his ardor – but he knows the king is watching. The king is always watching – until his own eyes roll back in his head from the surfeit of pleasure. 

“Valar, Legolas!...”, he moans helplessly, eyelids fluttering, fingers sinking harshly into the prince’s taut flesh. 

“Yes!... let it go… let me feel you…”, the prince gasps, quivering. 

“Come with me!...”, the king demands, sensing his beloved’s impending surrender. 

“Yes… always with you… always for you… Aragorn…”, the prince sobs as he falls apart, convulsing around his lover’s straining shaft.

The king struggles to keep his eyes open and focused on the glorious sight before him, even as he groans deeply through his own climax. Legolas keeps rocking gently atop him, riding the aftershocks, moaning softly and murmuring his name. His features are beatific, suffused with sensual delight, tenderness and devotion. “My love… my treasure…”, the king whispers, running his hands up the slender back. 

The prince leans down and kisses him deeply. They remain locked in a tight embrace, feeling each other’s heartbeat slow down gradually after their exertions. Moments later, the king is asleep. His limbs relax and his breathing deepens, but one arm is still wrapped around the slim elven waist. 

It is the prince now who is watching. He calmly regards the king’s peaceful features, the tangled dark locks scattered upon the pillow, the broad, furry chest… He absorbs the image, imprinting it forever on his flawless elven memory. There are several streaks of gray woven into the dark hair at the king’s temples, and the prince knows what this means. Their time together is finite. It may be decades still before the inevitable comes to pass – but what are decades to an elf?... Soon enough, this noble flame of a mortal heart shall be extinguished, and he shall remain behind, much like this mirror – filled to bursting with images no-one can behold anymore. He wonders briefly whether he might choose to keep the mirror – his closest confidante, privy to their most intimate secrets - or whether he’d be more inclined to destroy it in a fury of grief. But he pushes the thought away. Now is not the time to decide. Loving a mortal has taught him to focus on the here and now; not to waste precious, fleeting moments of joy with dark ruminations on what has not yet come to pass. He struggles with it still, more than anyone would have guessed from his calm, collected demeanor – but he has thought much upon it, and he knows in his deepest heart of hearts that it is better to have loved and lost, than to never have loved at all. And to love as fiercely as he does – and be loved in return – even for the space of one mortal lifetime, should be enough for anyone. 

He sighs, brushing a stray lock of hair from his sleeping lover’s forehead. The man murmurs indistinctly and clutches him tighter. “Yes, I am here”, the elf whispers. “I will always be here, watching over you.” He smiles as the king’s head settles against his shoulder. 

The mirror gazes on, unheeded. Though the lovers are not aware of this, it is no ordinary mirror. It has an identical twin in Valinor, connected by magic. Images reflected by the earthly counterpart can be viewed in the one which resides in the Undying Lands. Were it the other way around, the elven prince would be able to see the sorrowful countenance of Nienna the Weeper, gazing upon them with compassion. Long has it been since she last beheld such true love between an elf and a mortal – and that love had ended in death. And she had wept. And while she cannot turn back time to bring Luthien back, she believes she can intervene to ease the plight of these two valiant heroes, so that such a tragedy need not happen again. There has been enough pain and sorrow for all the free peoples of Middle Earth. Now that Darkness is overcome, why should those who helped defeat it be punished for their love?... The very thing which gave them strength to endure when all seemed lost?...

Reading the bittersweet wistfulness on the elven prince’s features as he watches his sleeping companion, Nienna makes a decision. She will speak to Lord Manwe on his behalf. Surely king Elessar deserves to be welcomed into the Undying Lands. And should her request be granted, she knows she will weep – this time for joy.


End file.
